


Space

by orphan_account



Series: Making Do [2]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: AU, F/M, MFMM Year of Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 13:25:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11403336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Phryne & Mac have a minor plane mishap and get stranded in the outback overnight without the ability to get word back to Melbourne. Jack lets his fears get the better of him, not unlike they did during "Blood at the Wheel". A fic entirely prompted by word games withthe July challenge.





	1. Space (1)

* * *

>   
>  **space** (noun): 2c - _the distance from other people or things that a person needs in order to remain comfortable_ (Merriam Webster)  
> 

* * *

“I won’t see you tonight then,” Jack said. It was more dawning realization than question. 

Phryne was the one up early this morning, standing before the mirror in her flying clothes, adjusting a long red scarf. Jack, unusually, was still in bed. Her bed. A bed that had only become _theirs_ in the past few days. 

“Not tonight,” she turned and said with a smirk, closing the space to rejoin him, just for moment, back in bed. He pulled her close, and still it wasn’t enough. Her blouse took up too much room between them, as did the thin silk bedsheet. 

“It’s just that, it’s the first night since….” He stopped himself, not wanted to sound possessive or presumptive. 

It would be the first night apart since they had, finally, come together over a bottle of red wine and decisions to “make do” with one another. There had been very little conversation. There had been a great deal of sex. 

“I know,” Phryne said, pulling back from his embrace but drawing a hand across his cheek. “But I promised Mac. It’s an important conference.” 

“She could take the train to Sydney,” he replied. 

“She could. But I told her we’d fly.” 

Jack grabbed the edges of Phryne’s aviators' scarf and pulled her back close to him, kissing her passionately, rolling them both over and pinning her gently beneath him. 

“I can’t bear for you to leave me,” he said with a laugh, his voice teasing, but his eyes, his body, suggesting that his lightheartedness was flimsy cover for the depth of his real feeling. 

As Jack undid the second button of her blouse Phryne stilled his hand. “I have to go. I’ll be back before you know it.” With one more kiss she slipped out from underneath him and left him, naked, fully aroused, in her bed — the ardent, passionate Jack that she always suspected was hidden underneath the controlled exterior. Once he finally made up his mind, she realized, he wanted no space at all between them. 

* * *

>   
>  **space** (noun): 1 - _continuous area or expanse which is free, available, or unoccupied_ (Oxford)  
> 

* * *

There was so much empty space below. 

Week upon week in the bustling urban center of Melbourne could allow one to forget how much of Australia was empty — the vast interior dotted with a few populous cities on the coast. The view from the air told a different story. 

The trip from Melbourne to Sydney was uneventful. The return trip, the following afternoon, was looking to be less so. 

Significantly short of Melbourne, the engine sputtered, smoked and ultimately seized up. “Gliding” was the technical term for staying aloft without an engine to provide lift, but there was nothing graceful or elegant about the semi-controlled landing Phryne made in an open field somewhere near Mansfield. She and Mac emerged unscathed, but light was fading fast and there were no buildings or roads of any kind in sight. 

“Any chance of getting her back in the air?” Mac asked once the smoke cleared. 

“Not tonight,” Phryne answered. “And we shouldn’t venture far on foot until first light.” 

Mac surveyed the area. “We’ll find a farmhouse in the morning.” 

“Let’s hope the first one has a phone,” Phryne answered. 

“I’ll go for kindling,” Mac said without argument, imminently practical about the risks and realities of their present situation. 

Phryne followed suit, pulling bedrolls, woolen blankets, and other emergency supplies from the plane’s hold. They had water, a little whiskey, Phryne’s pistol for protection, and soon enough, a blazing campfire — as safe and secure as two intelligent, accomplished women could be in the open outback overnight. Which is to say, barring some extreme improbability, they were absolutely fine. 

But Jack had no way of knowing this salient fact. 

All he knew was that Phryne hadn’t come home as planned. 

Unbearable. 


	2. Space (2)

* * *

>   
>  **space** (noun): 10 b - _an opportunity for privacy or time to oneself_ (Merriam Webster)  
> 

* * *

“Feel better, Miss?” Dot asked, busying herself about Phryne’s room picking up clothes that needed mending. 

“Much. Thank you.” 

Phryne was fresh from the bath, wrapped in her favorite silk robe. It had taken another day and half to get herself and her plane home from the empty field outside Mansfield. 

There was indeed a farmhouse within a few hours walk of the crash site. Phryne called for a cab, and not wanting to run up expensive phone charges for the Good Samaritans who had taken them in, called Mr. Butler and asked him to make calls around Melbourne announcing her safety and eventual return in due course. After seeing Mac off — she had a morgue to return to after all — Phryne saw about her plane. This was truly her first free moment. 

“Would you like fresh flowers, Miss? What a unique vase.” 

In her tidying, Dot had reached the flowers Jack had arranged to have left for her after their first night together, a bouquet from her own garden placed in a makeshift vase that was the bottle of red wine they had shared that night. Jack’s note, his simple declaration of love, was still tucked underneath the bottle. 

“I have another idea for the bottle, Dot. Would you leave it there?” 

“Of course,” Dot answered. 

“And ask Mr. Butler to have the Hispano ready please. I’ll head over to City South in about an hour.” 

* * *

>   
>  **space** (noun): 10 a - _the opportunity to assert or experience one's identity or needs freely_ (Merriam Webster)  
> 

* * *

The Jack she found at the station wasn’t the Jack she was expecting. 

She had waltzed in — refreshed, happy, vibrant — with a basket of baked goods from Mr. Butler and a particularly meaningful wine bottle holding a long-stemmed rose. Phryne had closed the office door, but Jack hadn’t come over to greet her properly. Instead, he sat at his desk, surrounded by files without paying them any mind. He was more than a little disheveled and looked like he hadn’t slept since she had seen him last. In fact, she quickly assessed, this Jack bore a considerable resemblance to the one she had found drinking alone in his office after the Gertie Haynes business. 

Well, Phryne had no intention of giving in to his dark mood, whatever the cause. 

“I was the one stranded overnight in the outback,” she began with a smile. “Why is it you look worse than I do?” 

“I’m quite busy, Miss Fisher,” he replied brusquely. “Can we do this another time.” 

“Oh, it’s Miss Fisher, is it?” she teased, closing the space between him by moving to his side of the desk. “I thought we were past that.” 

“Phryne,” he said sharply, “Not now.” 

He grabbed a file from the top of his desk and moved to the opposite side, placing a foot up on the seat of her chair, and opening the file folder — placing space between them but not leaving the room, as if the relatively small increase in physical distance would restore emotional equilibrium. 

Phryne watched his movements but held her ground. 

“What about now?” she asked, the sarcasm in her voice barely masking an anger that now matched his own. 

Jack put the file down — it really was a pathetic attempt at a prop — and turned to her across the desk. “I think we made a mistake,” he said, his voice resolute, but less angry. “I thought I could do this, that we could do this, but I was wrong.” 

“And I get no say in the matter,” she answered. “You think the words we said to one another less than a week ago are so flimsy that you can call this off before we really get started.” 

Jack held her gaze, his weary eyes filling with unshed tears, but he said nothing. 

Phryne shook her head, utterly uncomprehending how events had taken this turn so quickly. “I don't retreat, Jack. Not once I've committed to the cause. I might go back to base and shore up my supply lines, but I don't retreat.” 

"You think I'm a coward," he said. 

"No," she replied quickly. She didn't. She had let Mac say that about him months ago and had regretted not correcting her impression. "I would never say that, Jack. Would never think that. But maybe you're not ready for this — for us. I'm not easy." 

With that, Phryne intended to leave the office and give him time to regroup. Moving to the side of the desk, she reached for the wine bottle she had placed there moments earlier. At the same time he reached for her hand. The bottle slipped from her grasp, shattering at their feet on the office floor. It broke the spell. 

“Are you hurt, darling,” he said gently, pulling her close. 

“I’m still here, Jack,” she whispered, nestling into his embrace. “I’m right here.” 

* * *

>   
>  **space** (noun): 1 - _a period of time; also: its duration_ (Merriam Webster)  
> 

* * *

Hours later they were back at Wardlow, a conversation in bed, closing some of the space created earlier by unreasoning fear. 

“The thing is, my darling,” Phryne began, “If you had been there, you wouldn’t have been scared for us at all.” 

“Am I in the plane with you in this version?” he asked. His tone was playful, the sparkle back in his eyes. “You’re absolutely right. I would have been so afraid for myself that I might not have had any left over for you and Mac.” 

“In the plane. On the ground. No matter. You would have admired my skill in landing it safely, and been pleased with the way we survived the night and went for help the next morning. It was very skillful.” 

“I believe you,” he replied. He had no doubt of her ability when circumstances were within her control. 

“Good. Can we make a list of things that you don’t need to fear on my account? Planes. Fast motor cars. Organized crime figures with centuries-old feuds.” 

“We should both be scared of that,” he answered with a laugh. 

“We both have dangerous jobs, Jack. Together, and apart.” Phryne punctuated each statement with light kisses, holding him close. “I have no desire to be reckless, with either our bodies or our hearts.” 

“I’ll get better at this, Phryne, with time.” 

“We both will,” she answered, then kissed him deeply. 

There were a number of things they were already quite good at, and they were best done with as little space between them as possible. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic would not have existed at all without the July prompt. I started looking at definitions for "space" and thinking of ways to play with words, and got stuck on the notion that one of our modern definitions — the idea of space in a relationship — wouldn't have been in use in Jack and Phryne's time. So this became a way to have them play with the concept embedded in that definition without actually using the word in that way. Not convinced that I pulled it off well, but that's also part of what makes these prompts so engaging. Thanks for reading!


End file.
